Cannibal's Hymn
by Acepilot6
Summary: No.3 in the Road series now without lyrics. Reposted by special request. Please review.


**FF dot net repost – I've removed the lyrics, so now it complies with the FF code of practice. Hmph…for the original, lyric-filled version, please visit Luke's AGU Boards.**

**Cannibal's Hymn**  
Acepilot

Author's Note - #3 in the Road series - for lack of a better name. Comes as a result of listening to the song Cannbial's Hymn, by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, and realising its potential for this plotline. Also to introduce Amanda, who technically debuts here but has also appeared in Waiting Rooms already. (By the way - this story has been a nightmare to write - I've often struggled to produce a single useful line in a half-hour session. So I hope it comes out alright at the end of it.)

Disclaimer - The Rugrats characters are property of Klasky Csupo, Amanda is mine.  
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I'm watching her with those friends of hers. The other friends, the ones she's made more recently. And I wonder where our friendship went, what the hell happened to it.

She's got no time for it anymore, apparently. All she's got time for is cheerleaders and football players.

They're not real friends. Not even to each other. And certainly not to her - the girl legendary for her long-running friendship with the school freak.

I'm not in command of my feet as I walk toward her, and I'm certainly not in command of my head as I ask her to dance.

'When are you ever in command of your head?' my brain offers, in Phil DeVille's amused voice.

Laugh it up, Philly. You're not that lucky in love, either...

She might just be being polite, but I don't care as I steer her out on to the dance floor. The song changes, and I take a deep shuddering breath as I try to put us in a more traditional dancing pose. In all my years of enjoying life a little left of the centre, I'm now having to take all that daring it took to be different and use it to win a girl. My girl

I wonder when I started thinking of her as that.

"What the hell are you doing?" she hisses in my ear.

I just smile. "Dancing. You move your feet to the beat and try to be co-ordinated with your partner."

She sighs, and her tone of voice changes from furious to mock-regretful in less than a second. "Look, Dil -"

"Don't say anything."

She looks at me quizically and says, "Pardon?"

I meet her eyes, stare for stare. "Don't say anything. I'm going to talk. And I should have done so long ago."

She glares at me but thankfully remains silent.

"Who do you think you're fooling?"

The glare intensifies. "What the hell do you mean by that?"

I squarely meet her gaze yet again. "This new you - it isn't really you at all."

"It is me. The new me."

"I don't think so, Mand." I grin, despite the seriousness. "I know you. And I know the people you're trying to become."

"You have no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh, don't I?"

She doesn't immediately respond. Her gaze drops.

God I'm good.

"No, you don't."

"Tell me that they're genuine. Tell me they're reliable."

"Not everyone is looking for a perfect bond with everyone they befriend, you know. Just because you have so few friends you have to make the extra effort -"

"Did it ever occur to you that I thought you'd be all I'd need?"

She doesn't seem to have any kind of response to that.

"When you have problems with anything - someone has hurt you, something has happened that's devastated you, I dunno, anything - are they going to care? Are they going to help you, are they going to be there?"

She remains silent, and I press the advantage.

"I will. You know that."

"Thanks for the dance, Dil," she whispers in my ear, before letting go of me.

But she doesn't walk away as much as she flees back toward them.

* * *

I breathe in the cool night air, thankful to be outside. I was starting to feel claustrophobic in that damn hall.

The gang and I once spent an evening on the roof of our house looking at the stars, in the midst of which Phil and I gave them a rough astronomy lesson. It was easier said than done - everyone was highly attentive but trying to sketch out constellations for other people with the naked eye is not an easy thing to do.

But at any rate, no matter whether anyone else understands them or not, I love the stars. I don't think there's aliens among them anymore (not really, anyway), so with that in mind I enjoy looking at them and just wondering at the beauty. I think Phil's fascination with them has something to do with his little "does anything really matter" phase that happened about the same time as the break up with Kimi, but for me, it's long been the simple beauty of the things.

Lying on the grass of the school oval, staring up at the vastness of space above, I'm surprised to hear sniffling not far off.

I raise my head cautiously, trying to work out where it's coming from, only to realise it's coming from the benches on the edge of the field. I haul myself to my feet, glancing in the direction of the sound.

And there's none other than her.

During his pursuit of Lil, Tommy once related to me the pain of seeing the girl you love cry, but I never really realised what he'd meant until this very moment. Because as I sit here and watch Amanda wipe away tears, I can feel my heart breaking.

"What's wrong?"

Her head shoots up and her eyes immediately meet mine, and instantly she looks away, almost...ashamed?

"Nothing. Go away."

Uh-uh, I'm not buying. "I was here first. What's wrong, Amanda?"

She finally meets my eyes again, and she looks ready to breathe fire all over me.

"Dil. Go. Away."

Years ago I would have done just that. But not anymore. Phil and I got to be pretty good friends, and if I learnt anything from the whole mess he got into with Kimmi, it's never to give up. Not to take anything for granted.

And I realise that if I don't do something now, I'm going to have missed my chance.

"No way, Amanda. What's wrong?"

"Why are we friends?"

I raise an eyebrow. "What?"

She pits me with a glare again, and I have to fight not to physically flinch. "Why are we friends, Dil? Why do you hang out with me?"

I'm gaping. What kind of question is that? How can you ask someone that?

Especially when you know that they've got no good answer?

Why are we friends? Because we always have been. And I know that answer is no good.

Of course, there's always the slight thing about me being head over heels in love with her. But that probably doesn't qualify, either.

"Because you make me feel good about myself."

I think about that for a second.

"Well, mostly. You make me feel happy, you make me feel wanted."

And another second.

"Until recently."

She lets out a slightly agonised wail. "I get it, Dil."

I shake my head at her. "I was right, wasn't I?"

"Go away, Dil."

And it's confirmed.

I sit down next to her. "I'm sorry."

She laughs, but it's not the rich, beautiful sound that I've come to know and love. It's bitter and sharp, almost sarcastic. "No you're not. You hate them."

I nod. There's no real point denying it.

"You should hate me," she mutters.

Okay. We've crossed a line here. "No. Why?"

She looks up at me again and it really hits home. Her eyes are swollen and puffy, red with tears and rimmed with still more. Her face, normally this shining bright beacon of happiness - no matter how fake - can't even raise the slightest of shields. It's a raw and twisted vision of sadness.

And I can't help but love her anyway.

"Because I've hurt you. I abandoned you. To be more popular!" She reaches out and grabs the hem of my jacket, pulling me toward her. I can't help but be overwhelmed with the beautiful scent that assails me, despite the fact that she's crying in pain.

I'm a bit of a poet, huh?

"I'm a horrible person."

"No, you're not." I sit down next to her, taking her hands in mine and looking into her eyes as best I'm able. I'm trying to broadcast an air of confidence.

My friendship with the girl I love is on the line and I've got no idea how to save it.

I'm scared to death.

"Amanda," if I say the wrong thing here, I won't have time to regret it... "I'm not going to pretend to understand why popularity was so important to you. And I won't say it didn't hurt," - quick, hit the point before you lose her, you dope - "but I couldn't hate you. I could never hate you."

"Why not?"

Because I love her?

"Because we're best friends. Because we're way too close for me to hate you. Ever. We've been through too much."

She sniffles a bit before leaning her head on my shoulder. I put a tentative arm around her, pulling her close, letting her cry it out.

"What should I do, Dil?"

I take a deep breath. "I think I'm the wrong person to ask."

I press my lips gently to her forehead and feel her tense up a little, and I realise I've gone one step too far.

"Do you love me?" She whispers against my skin, and I'm unable to do anything but nod meekly, helplessly. I feel my own tears prick at my eyes, and I don't know if I'm going to be able to bear this experience.

"I'm sorry," she gasps, and presses her lips to mine, and everything is wrong but it feels right. I should be savouring this experience but the saltwater on her lips makes it a mockery of what it should be.

"I love you too," she manages, barely. And then she's gone from my arms, running into the night. I don't have the energy to go after her anymore, and though she's just told me she loved me, something tells me that it's not the good thing I was hoping for. There's no joy to be had in those words. Not said like that.

I fall back across the bench, staring at the stars, and I think I finally understand what Phil sees in them. There's no conflict, no emotions. Just innocence.

What I wouldn't give to be a star...

----


End file.
